


A Collection of Crowley’s Thoughts (and the Unintended Aftermath)

by fatfartshit



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatfartshit/pseuds/fatfartshit
Summary: cigarettes, that’s what aziraphale was to him, crowley thought. he could hold him between his fingers and suck him in and he’d fill his heart with tar until there was nothing. a black heart, filled to the brim with strange goo, as heavy as an executioners axe. crowley could only stay away for so long until he longed for the scent of him, for the taste of him. sometimes, crowley could smell him in the evening breeze and when he did he’d stop, he’d close his eyes, and he’d breathe in that dangerous, intoxicating smell.





	A Collection of Crowley’s Thoughts (and the Unintended Aftermath)

cigarettes, that’s what aziraphale was to him, crowley thought. he could hold him between his fingers and suck him in and he’d fill his heart with tar until there was nothing. a black heart, filled to the brim with strange goo, as heavy as an executioners axe. crowley could only stay away for so long until he longed for the scent of him, for the taste of him. sometimes, crowley could smell him in the evening breeze and when he did he’d stop, he’d close his eyes, and he’d breathe in that dangerous, intoxicating smell.  
when aziraphale wasn’t around, time was slower than molasses, than a snail on a highway, slower than anything he could ever describe. but when he met those divine eyes, time would shoot forward like a bullet, and he would be left scrambling, trying to slow it down, trying to savor his time with aziraphale because god knows when he would see him next. it could be next week, it could be months, crowley never knew, and that’s what killed him.  
he wondered if aziraphale thought like this, if he dreamt of holding him, kissing him, cradling him until the world ended. probably not, he thought, because he was a gross demon with gross demon eyes and a gross demon smile that curls like the rotting skin of an apple, taunting, tempting.  
he wanted to blame aziraphale so bad, for this sadness he carries around like a handgun, for longing and pining for him for six thousand fucking years, but he didn’t.  
aziraphale was a creature of his own in that regard, and he needed to wait, to be ready. so he would continue to wait on star studded nights, for time to pass funereally, until aziraphale would long to kiss him too, until he could love aziraphale fully and wholly, and aziraphale could love him too.

but that day had passed many many years ago, and aziraphale was oh so ready. so he held the demon’s face, as tenderly as he could, and kissed him outside of his old bookshop, as a thank you, as an “I love you too,” as an apology. he pressed their lips together and a crack in the universe opened, and they slipped through the opening and into worlds beyond, and they would slow dance in the stars like a scene in a movie he couldn’t remember (it was la la land) and they’d hold each other, tight.

**Author's Note:**

> wowza my first good omens fanfiction! thank you so much for reading!! my little babies!!! thank you again!!! love you!!


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